


In Tocca Al Lupo

by MikaHaeli8



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: (kind of), Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Clothing Kink, Denial Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Leather Kink, M/M, Mild S&M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-Beta'd, Tease and Deny, Teasing, Top John, Touching, tying up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaHaeli8/pseuds/MikaHaeli8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John took a moment, once Sherlock was sprawled out naked on the bed, to gaze at his pale, thin, long-limbed body, dotted with moles and the occasional patch of fuzzy, dark hair. It would have been almost adorable if not for the fairly obvious, dark-red erection jutting out from between the younger man’s hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Tocca Al Lupo

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: Characters are not mind and this is self-beta'd, so any errors are mine. Title comes from the Italian idiom "in bocca al lupo", but "tocca" comes from "toccare" meaning "to touch"...anyway, my first Johnlock smut, so I hope you enjoy. ~Mika

The look Sherlock gave John in response to the former army doctor’s suggestion was almost akin to the one he usually gave other people, albeit a mite softer; the look that asked him if he was serious.

“Completely,” John responded to Sherlock’s expression, spreading his hands out wide. “I just…If you don’t want to try it, that’s fine, I just thought – ”

“No.”

A pause followed.

“No?”

Sherlock swallowed. John almost enjoyed the uncertainty that crossed his face at the same time. “I mean…no, I know you ‘just thought it would be something we could try’, to use your words.” The uncertainty disappeared, replaced with a smirk. “Besides, we’ve tried practically everything else. Why not this?”

A hopeful rush of heat blossomed in John’s heart before travelling to his groin. “Go on, then. You know where the bedroom is.”

“Starting now, are we?” Sherlock replied, although the suggestion of authority that had crept into the older man’s voice travelled straight up the detective’s spine, straightening it in response. Without another word, he turned and headed for the room in question.

~x~

John took a moment, once Sherlock was sprawled out naked on the bed, to gaze at his pale, thin, long-limbed body, dotted with moles and the occasional patch of fuzzy, dark hair. It would have been almost adorable if not for the fairly obvious, dark-red erection jutting out from between the younger man’s hips.

A plaintive whine of “ _John!_ Why are you not undressed yet?” escaped from the detective’s lips, but this stemmed from impatience rather than lust.

The older man smirked. “Because that’s part of it, Sherlock.” Removing his shoes, he climbed on the mattress, kneeling by his detective’s naked form. “You remember the safeword, yes?”

“‘Honey’,” Sherlock stated, the smoky chocolate tones making John salivate a little more than usual. Swallowing, he nodded.

“Good. And you know the rules, too?” he asked, getting up from the mattress to collect Sherlock’s blue scarf from the desk next to it. This was one of the elements that he’d kept from Sherlock and he anticipated his reaction.

“No touching you at all with either hands or lips and no begging, verbally or with my body. Though I cannot honestly – ”

“Good,” John interrupted, finding the gloves on the desk and making a mental note of where they were for later. “Move up, then. Hands against the bars.”

Not trusting himself with words given his current state, Sherlock merely nodded, shifting himself up the bed and clasping his hands around the bars that formed their headboard.

John knelt on the mattress once more and looked into the curly-haired man’s eyes. “One last time. Are you sure about this?”

“ _Yes,_ John, I’m certain. Now – ” Sherlock broke off in his impatience as he spotted the object in John’s hands. “Is that my scarf? You’re tying me up with _my scarf?_ ”

John gave a small sigh, leaning over Sherlock to tie his hands up. “Yes, I am.”

Sherlock huffed in defeat.

“Don’t be like that. Tight enough?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” John moved his hands away from the knot and ran his calloused fingertips down the sensitive flesh of Sherlock’s inner wrists, eliciting a stuttered gasp from the tied-up man. “Good boy.”

John slid off the mattress and slowly wandered around the bed back to the desk, pulling on one of the gloves. He held his hand up in full view of Sherlock, flexing his fingers and enjoying the way the material almost creaked as he did so. Meanwhile, Sherlock was fighting a constant urge to thrust his hips in the air, the sight of the glove triggering an almost Pavlovian response deep in his veins.

John didn’t miss the silent struggle, humming in satisfaction as he lowered the gloved hand to hover inches above Sherlock’s body, a begging whine of “ _John!_ ” tearing itself roughly from the detective’s throat.

“Now, now,” the doctor chastised, “remember what we said? No begging.”

Sherlock bit his lips in remorse, flexing his fingers, arousal increasing alarmingly frequently.

“There we go. Good.” Reaching the top of the bed, John cupped Sherlock’s face with the gloved hand. Before the younger man could lean into the touch, the older quickly moved it away and over the curves and contours of his body, causing him to arch almost painfully off the bed.

“Calm down, now,” John warned, kneeling over Sherlock’s legs on the mattress and squeezing his hips.

“Yes, Captain,” Sherlock rasped sarcastically, cock twitching in interest and body trembling with the effort to repress the urge to arch his body even more as he knew it would be interpreted as begging.

John stilled at the title, the urge to take Sherlock then and there almost completely overwhelming. His own cock strained in his underwear, hardening even more. “That…” He swallowed. _You cheeky bugger._ “That was naughty, Sherlock. Very naughty.”

Removing the glove, he skimmed his fingers over the thin, sensitive skin of the younger man’s hips and groin. Sherlock keened, a high-pitched whine that was cut off halfway through. John continued his ministrations, never actually touching Sherlock’s genitals, which elicited further frustrated, broken whines from the detective. He stopped when he saw the first bead of pre-come, peeling the glove off and tossing it to one side. Lowering himself, he touched his tongue lightly to Sherlock’s tip, tasting the saltiness of the pre-come on. Unable to help himself, John slid between Sherlock’s legs and pressed his still-fully-clothed body against the detective’s naked one, capturing his lips in a devastating and thorough kiss. The textures of John’s clothes rubbing against Sherlock’s bare skin set the latter’s nerves alight, more pre-come gathering and smearing on John’s trousers. Eventually, the older man withdrew and Sherlock sank as best as he could into the mattress, torn between feeling thoroughly fucked and barely touched at all.

Chuckling throatily, John once again removed himself from the bed and stood at its foot, making sure Sherlock could see everything. Slowly, he started to undress, letting his shirt, trousers and underwear fall to the floor. He tugged his own penis, which was rock hard and an angry red.

“Don’t you wish you could be my hand right now?” he asked him, voice croaky from arousal and lack of use. “Or would you rather have me inside you? My fingers…my cock…”

_It’s all yours. I’m all yours._

The great mind tied up to the bed in front of him groaned in response, looking completely wrecked, red flushes everywhere John could see. A thrill of affection and lust ran through him at the knowledge that Sherlock trusted him (and _only_ him) enough to do this to him; to tie him up and deny him release for so long.

“Okay. You’ve been very good for me today, so I’ll reward you.” John wandered back to the desk and opened a drawer, taking a bottle of lubricant out. Crawling back onto the mattress, he pressed a small kiss to the soft inside of one of Sherlock’s knees. “How do you want it?”

“Rough,” Sherlock croaked. “I want to f-feel every inch of… _oh_ …you.”

“You do, hey?” John slipped a second, lubricated finger in, resisting the urge to crook his fingers at a certain angle. He thought it would tip Sherlock over the edge and he didn’t want him to come _just_ yet. “You want to feel it even tomorrow, even if Lestrade calls about a case and you can’t sit right as he tells us about it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sherlock whined, body bucking.

John took deep breaths, suppressing his own urge to come as he withdrew his fingers and dribbled a little lubricant onto his member. Not wanting to wait any more, he lined himself up with the younger man and pushed, slipping in easily.

Sherlock let out a long sigh of relief, followed by a cry of ecstasy as John fucked him furiously, sucking on his torso as he did so, leaving marks on the plain expanse of skin. After all that teasing, neither of them lasted very long. Sherlock arched towards John and came so hard he momentarily lost consciousness. John slammed his hips into Sherlock’s so hard that he was absolutely certain he’d left bruises and climaxed with a cry, emptying himself deep into that wiry body.

Sliding out, he crawled on trembling hands and knees to the top of the bed, untying Sherlock’s hands and rubbing the marked wrists.

“ _John_ ,” Sherlock croaked insistently, “I’m fine. I don’t need…this.”

 _Yeah you do_ , John thought, grabbing tissues from the bedside table and cleaning Sherlock up. “Maybe not, but what you _do_ need is sleep.”

“No, I don’t,” the detective mumbled, but he was already crawling under the thick winter duvet and pulling it up to his chin. By the time John returned from the bin, Sherlock was fast asleep. Smiling, John slid in next to him, running his hands lightly through Sherlock’s curls before lying down, facing his lover.

Still half-asleep, the young man slid his fingers in the spaces between John’s as the doctor fell asleep, finally able to touch him for the first time that evening.


End file.
